


Take Me Back to the Start

by sElkieNight60



Series: When You're in Pieces (and Still Falling Apart) [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Barbara Gordon Is Not A Ray of Sunshine, Bruce Wayne Slowly Becoming a Better Parent, Depression, Dick Grayson Whump, Dick Grayson-centric, Gen, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Jason Is A Ray of Sunshine, Panic Attacks, Rape Recovery, emotionally hurt dick grayson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:55:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23837941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sElkieNight60/pseuds/sElkieNight60
Summary: Picking up where Dick Grayson left off is easier said than done.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne
Series: When You're in Pieces (and Still Falling Apart) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1717669
Comments: 33
Kudos: 321





	Take Me Back to the Start

**Author's Note:**

> Today I wrote this thing that nobody asked for.
> 
> Enjoy! (Please heed tags.)

“ _I hope you're looking after yourself,” Stacy says with a warning eye, like she_ knows _something. Dick's pretty sure he's got no idea what the concept of that would look like anymore. Maybe that reads on his face because Stacy rolls her eyes and adds, “I saw you with that guy. You better be careful with him.”_

_The money in his pocket suddenly feels as dirty as he is._

“ _I've got it, but thanks.”_

_Stacy eyes him once more._

“ _You're gonna get an STD if you keep this up,” she presses. “I can't help but feel worried about you.”_

_Dick doesn't need anyone looking out for him. The sex and the blow-jobs mean nothing, they're nothing more than exchanges between him and the men that pass through. They need an outlet, Dick is available to provide. Plus the spending money means he's got more for food. White bread and free sample packets of peanut butter only go so far._

“ _I'm fine,” he says. “Really. The black eye was one time. It's not going to happen again, I know how to look after myself.”_

_Stacy looks dubious and the filth that covers Dick might feel like shame if he could feel anything anymore._

The headquarters of the League look just like they did when Dick was a kid. Jason―Robin―bounces up ahead, looking excited. Apparently he's been here before, but Dick knows the shininess of the place takes a while to wear off.

Batman trails behind Dick, cowl on, but excited and nervous in his own kind of way. Bruce wanted to keep Dick's reappearance a surprise, so apart from Clark, the rest of the League still believes him to be missing. Honestly, Dick doesn't get it, but it's probably best to break the news to them all at once.

 _It doesn't stop him from feeling out of place here, though._ Where once the headquarters had felt almost like a second home, now they just feel foreign and forbidden. Someone as dirty and disgusting as him shouldn't be here. Bruce doesn't know that, yet. Dick hasn't been able to work up the courage to tell him.

_Stacy's worry is becoming more apparent with every rough customer Dick has._

“ _You're gonna end up seriously hurt,” she says, applying ointment to his eye. Dick hisses when the disinfectant touches the open cut. “These guys… they're chewing you up and spitting you back out, don't you see that?”_

_Dick pushes away from the bar and drains the last of his hard liquor. It's a free drink. Something for the pain. Lord knows Dick can't afford pain meds right now._

“ _Whatever,” he replies, sullen. “I don't care. Let 'em have their way. My way wasn't working for me so anything's better than that.”_

_Stacy looks annoyed._

“ _Listen,” she barks, pointing a sharp finger. “Just because you don't give a shit about yourself doesn't mean no one does.”_

_Dick wonders about the validity of that statement._

The doors to the meeting room swing open and Dick suddenly doesn't think he can do this. All he wants to do is run and hide. This is shameful, returning after all this time. Making them waste their resources on him. God, he never should have agreed to come here.

Clark's beaming smile is the first thing he sees, but it's followed by what seems to be a million exclamations of his name. All he wants to do is shrivel up into a ball of nothing; he is not the Robin he once was.

Wally's red hair is in his face faster than he can blink, yellow arms wrapped around his neck. Donna isn't far behind. Through the slight gap between them he can see the older members of the League looking both stunned and delighted. It would have made him feel good about himself, once. Now he just feels like a piece of shit.

_Over the phone, Dick's voice cracks. There's no one else he can call. Fuck, he can't move._

“ _Pick up, pick up, pick up,” he mutters through tears into the phone receiver. Maybe if Stacy hadn't taken the night off he wouldn't have been so dumb about this. The bar's all locked up, but he… he can't go outside like this._

_A sleepy, “Mm?” is the first thing he hears. It floods him with relief._

“ _Stace?” he asks, sounding just as shaken as he feels._

“ _Dick?” she replies back, a little more awake now._

“ _I know I'm nothing but a piece of shit and a pain in your backside, but is there any chance you can do me a favour?”_

_There's a shuffling noise and presumably she sits up._

“ _What?” she questions, almost demanding. “What's happened?”_

“ _I need you to grab a spare change of clothes from my room, Stace. He…” and Dick cannot hold back the wailing and the sobs. “I… I should've listened to you. I'm an idiot.”_

A million people come up and clap him on the back, touch him on the shoulder and wrap their arms around him for a hug. Dick is tossed around like a ragdoll, this way and that. The throbbing pulse of shame never leaves.

Jason grins at him the whole time. Dick tries to grin back, but given the way Bruce is looking at him, he wonders if the show is actually good enough. Dick feels hollow, in a weird, tinny kind of way. An empty grain silo with a hole in the roof, large enough for the rain and the ignominy to trickle in.

“ _We thought you were dead!”_ Are the words still ringing on repeat when they leave. Like an annoying ringtone. It never seems to end. In comparison, the manor seems almost safe.

Bruce touches his shoulder as they get out of the Batmobile.

“Stay the night?” he asks.

Dick wants to. Maybe Bruce can read that in his face, but…

… if Bruce _knew_.

_Stacy helps him into a new shirt. The old one lies in tatters on the ground. His muscles ache. Dick's not sure he'll ever move again._

“ _What happened?” she asks. Her presence is firm, sturdy, real. It pulls him out of himself._

_Dick's fingers tremble around the hem of his tracksuit pants._

“ _I asked him to stop,” he says, feeling part of himself detach. It's a really strange sensation, but it give him the courage to go on. “He… didn't.”_

_Stacy's face twists up in a way Dick doesn't want to read into._

“ _Oh, honey,” she says, voice cracking._

“Maybe next time,” he returns, giving Bruce a smile. The way Bruce's face twists up makes Dick think he'll be haunted until he sees Dick again.

And then, almost as though Bruce thinks Dick is going to disappear again without warning, says, “Promise? Next time, promise?”

The first thing that has felt genuine all day touches his lips and, tentatively, his arms reach up to wrap around the man's torso.

“Promise,” he nods into the kevlar. “I promise, B.”

_Bruce can't ever know._

* * *

Bruce is onto him. Maybe.

There've been… _looks_.

Batman is stalking the GCPD. Some nights he even follows Dick home. Sometimes Jason is already there waiting for him. Jay's a good kid. When Batman has a particularly rough case he doesn't want the head-strong kid involved with, he'll send him over to Dick's place with a pint of ice-cream. It's fine. Dick's happy to baby-sit.

Jason's little Robin shoes hit the underside of Dick's IKEA couch.

“B's worried y'know,” he says around a spoonful of ice-cream, the entire tub in between his hands. “About you. Says you're not yourself. I dunno what he's talking about. You seem like yourself to me.”

Dick laughs through a snort.

“Thanks, kid,” he answers, stacking the last washed glass on the draining board and drying his hands on his pants. “And if Bruce asks, you can tell him I'm fine.”

Jay gives him a salute with the licked clean spoon. “Aye aye, sir!”

The work at the GCPD keeps him busy, but one day Babs shows up out of nowhere and stalks through the department, on a mission, until she finds him and drags him into an unused office. She looks very close to slapping him.

“You just can't _do_ that, Richard!” She shouts at him. “You can't just disappear and then come back and not even let me know you're alive! I had to find out through _Diana._ You _asshole_.”

That's exactly what he is.

“I'm sorry, Barbara,” he says, but it's not enough. It never will be. The truth is, he isn't really sorry. There's a large part of him that still just… can't care.

“The GCPD doesn't even know who you really are, do they?” She accuses, eyes narrowed.

“No,” he confirms, feeling only a little guilty about that. Ric Grey has made a good life for himself here―

“Well if you don't tell them within two weeks,” Barbara interrupts his thoughts. “I will.”

She storms out of the room and the walk back to Ric's desk has never felt longer. No one pays him any mind. Their conversation stayed behind a closed door, but suddenly Dick feels exposed to the world. He's a sham, a fraud, and Barbara is going to stomp all over everything he's worked hard to build in the name of some misguided attempt at outting his raw edges. She's holding him to a higher moral pedestal and right now Dick has never felt more like crawling into the shadows and hiding there.

That day it all becomes just too much. Somehow, he manages to finish the day through a haze of panic and paperwork, although he doesn't quite know how.

Batman once again follows him home and makes sure he gets there safely. What he's not expecting is for Batman to break in through the open window. Dick is already halfway through a full-blown panic attack by the time Bruce is by his side.

Through the hyperventilating, he hardly recognises Bruce's voice, but his skin remembers the man's touch. Hands smooth through his hair―it's growing back longer now, he's almost surprised no one at the department has said anything about how much he looks like that Richard Grayson from a few months ago.

There are so many parts of himself at war with each other.

“Who am I, B?” he asks through a fog.

Is he the dirty, unclean thing from Stacy's bar? Richard Grayson, Bruce Wayne's charming ward? A faded Robin, welcomed back with open arms and shame in his stomach? Ric Grey, a man to be exposed as a falsity to the world?

Bruce's warm arms hold him tighter to his chest. There are tiny hushing noises making their way out of his mouth, words of comfort too.

“Dick,” he says simply. “You are Dick.”

And, at the center of it all, when the surface layers have been scrubbed away. That's all he's ever been.

“I am nothing,” he says, cracking. Breaking straight down the middle.

A pained whine makes it out from the back of Bruce's throat.

“No you're not, you've never been that. It might feel that way now,” he says, “but you're not.”

Jason shows up at the tail end of Dick's panic attack, looking distressed by the sight of him. Dick can see the accusation in his eyes; _'you told me you were fine'._ Jason is right to look at him like that.

That night is one of the weirdest nights of his life.

Jason falls asleep on his couch and Bruce sits on the floor with Dick and they watch cartoons on Dick's beat-up old television until the sun rises. The warmth of Bruce's side pressed up against him lulls Dick into a sense of security and he must fall asleep at some point because when he wakes again it's the weekend and he's in his bed.

At first he thinks Bruce and Jason have gone home, but then he smells the scent of cooking wafting from his kitchen and it spurs him out of bed in a hurry―oh, Bruce had better not have set the kitchen on fire!

Surprisingly, it's Jason who's doing the cooking. Nothing is burning. The boy is flipping pancakes on the stove dressed in a shirt that was definitely both Dick's and several sizes too big for the kid. Bruce has his hands on his hips and is staring, puzzled, at the espresso machine Dick purchased two weeks ago.

“Good morning!” Jason beams, flipping another pancake onto the stack. In his face, Dick cannot see any remnants of last night lingering. It gives him tentative hope.

“Morning…” he replies just as Bruce looks up, smile spreading across his lips. “What's this?”

Bruce snorts. “Breakfast. If I could get your coffee machine to work.”

Dick walks over and flips on the power at the switch with a smirk. Bruce looks like a child, sheepishly ashamed.

The sounds of the city are audible outside. Citizens of Gotham going about their weekend with excitement and the ever-present secret prayer in the back of their minds that there'll be no rogue attacks today.

The three of them eat breakfast in Dick's crappy apartment and Bruce thinks he's being subtle about eyeing Dick, but he's really not.

It gets to him, eventually.

“It was Babs,” he says, setting his mug of coffee down onto the table with a sigh. “She wants me to come clean to the GCPD. Not as Ric Grey, but as Richard Grayson.”

Jason looks thoughtful and nods. “You don't want to?”

Bruce watches the both of them like a hawk.

“I…” Dick has to swallow back the memories of Stacy's bar and a past he can't ever scrub away. “To be honest, I don't know who Richard Grayson _is_ anymore.”

There's a pause and it lasts for a long time. Dick finds himself grateful that Jason is here, because the kid is nothing if not sharp.

“Well,” he begins as he bites into a pancake smothered in maple syrup. “Who do you _want_ him to be?”

For a moment, Dick has to drop his gaze. The swirling black liquid in his mug provides a visual distraction enough for him to parse the thought through in his mind. Bruce leans in just a fraction, eyes bright and focused.

“I want him to be someone I'm not ashamed of,” he admits, finally. It's the first time Dick thinks he can admit he's not whole anymore. Not the same, sparkling little kid Bruce took in, the one that he loved. This is what the world has left him with and Dick hates it. He hates everything about Richard Grayson.

This time, when he looks up, he meets Bruce's gaze square on.

“I've done things the old Dick Grayson would never… He's gone, B. How… how do I get him back?”

Bruce looks him over.

Then, “Maybe you don't.”

Jason's head snaps to him sharply, but he doesn't interrupt as Bruce continues.

“Maybe it's not something so simple as returning to who you were,” he says. “Maybe it's about forging and finding your path forward. Dick Grayson doesn't need to be resurrected, he is sitting right here in front of me. At the moment, he looks a little lost, but that's okay. I want you to know that is okay. I'm not going to let him fall by the wayside, not ever again.”

The word falls out of his mouth unchecked, before Dick even knows the meaning behind it.

“Dad…”

Bruce gives him a smile and then Jason rolls his eyes and stabs a pancake from the stack.

“Anyone ever told you two you're both idiots?” he asks, reaching for the bottle of maple syrup again. “Surely Alfie has. Surely.”

Dick laughs. It bubbles up from within him, drowning in relief as much as Jason's plate is drowning in syrup.

“Many times,” he says.

And things might not be totally alright yet, but maybe that's okay too.

Bruce sends him another smile, something broad for Bruce, as he reaches across and gives Jason's hair a gentle ruffle.

Dick still has to come clean to the GCPD, he still has to make up with Babs, he still has to apologise to all the people in the Justice League that worried for him, he still has to work things out with his team and he still has to find a way to tell Bruce about what happened at Stacy's bar, but that can wait until tomorrow. There's a path forward. He can't quite see it yet, but it's there. Soon. Someday soon. And Bruce is giving him that smile and Jason is gesturing a little too wildly with his fork, and this time, he thinks, this time the bumps might be harder, but he's not alone anymore.

Today is for maple syrup on pancakes in his apartment with his dad and his brother.

And maybe nobody can take Dick Grayson back to the start, but maybe that's okay too.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment or kudos if you liked this work! Also, if you want to make a new friend, come chat with me at [Tumblr](https://selkienight60.tumblr.com/).


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